


Catch My Eye (Catch Me on Fire)

by Authumnder



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22933252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authumnder/pseuds/Authumnder
Summary: A tale in which Wendy flusters near pretty people and Irene is just straight upgorgeous.
Relationships: Bae Joohyun | Irene/Son Seungwan | Wendy
Comments: 30
Kudos: 323





	1. catch my eye

**Author's Note:**

> I caved. I wrote this years ago and never got around to finishing and posting it, but I went through it again today and caved. So here, have this. 
> 
> A little warning, this is quite literally the epitome of confident gay vs. panicked gay. NO REGRET.

There are many things about Wendy that the public knows.

(And by _public_ , she means the people she talks to on daily basis, not the _general public_ kind; God, no, she’d rather be buried alive rather than having the whole world knows some of these secrets-not-so-secret about her.)

Anyways. Back to the topic. There are many things about Wendy that the public knows, including but not limited to these facts:

  1. She likes to sing. And she sounds _amazing_ (at least Seulgi thinks so— _who’s Seulgi?_ Don’t worry, we’ll get to that later). Despite that, Wendy used to dislike singing in front of many people, so it’s no wonder her friends got so surprised at how nice her voice is when she first started her ‘career’ as a broadcaster at the campus radio and was forced to sing a song (Wendy chose _Through the Night,_ and Seulgi _actually_ recorded the entire song. Like, from start to finish. _Deadass)_.
  2. She is a Google-nerd...a Search King...for lack of a better description. Wendy actually pulled an all-nighter scrolling through Wikipedia pages _for fun_ not once or twice but _twelfth times_. (Alright, fine, maybe not a lot of people knows this, but you can try and go tell some random people who knows her this fact and they’d only nod in understanding and probably go, _yeah, of course she would_.)
  3. She bakes. (There’s no explanation needed because this is like the most basic information about her, _literally_ everyone that has been in the same class with her for at least a semester _knows_ this. She bakes delicious cookies and brownies in great amounts at least once a month—unless it’s finals week, of course—and she is generous enough to share them with everyone. Poor college students love free food. They _love_ this arrangement. They _can’t_ help but love Wendy as well.)
  4. She has only been seen hanging with two people. One of them is Seulgi (ha!), aka her _best friend forever_ , as Seulgi herself has proclaimed. She wasn’t lying, though, we know those two are inseparable, attached to the hip, bestfriends _for better and for worse, till death do them part_ , blah-diddy-blah-blah-blah...you get the drill. The other one is Sejeong, her roommate, whom she adores so much although the girl _sexiles_ her from her own damn room at least once a week, forcing Wendy to make a trip (again and again) to Seulgi’s house to have a sleepover. Right. Well, at least Sejeong is nice. And pretty. And has a nice voice. Yeah. (There are actually two more people Wendy is close to, but they are Seulgi’s friend and Sejeong’s girlfriend, so they don’t really count. Sorry.)
  5. She is gay. (Um. No explanation needed. Yeah.)
  6. She is _hopeless_ when it comes to pretty people. She can’t _stand_ pretty people. Not in the _I’m-disgusted-by-you_ way, no, quite the contrary, really, because Wendy gets nervous as heck when she is in the proximity of one. She cannot _not_ make a fool of herself. It is as if her ability to do _anything_ properly has fallen into a coma or something, cruelly leaving her alone...squawking...screeching...stumbling over words… which is exactly what is happening right now, by the way.



“Uhm, hey? Can you hear me?”

You know what? Scratch fact #4. From now on, Seulgi is no longer her _bff_. The honorary title is forcibly moved from her to...to someone else. Sejeong, possibly. Or Sooyoung… wait, not Sooyoung, that girl _loves_ creating hell for Wendy, even has the audacity to laugh out loud in front of her whenever she got into trouble. Definitely not her. She is fine with Nayoung—Sejeong’s girlfriend—too. Whatever. She could do _fine_ with anyone that is not _Seulgi_ because at least others won’t do this kind of _betrayal_ , this flippin’ _betrayal_ …

“Hey!”

Wendy startles. “H-h-yes, I mean, hey, no what, hi! Can I help you?” she, unsurprisingly, squeaks. A second later, she realises that she just talked in _English_. Oh, God. “I’m sorry. I mean, hi, what can I do for you?”

The angel ( _what_?), no, the girl ( _not just girl_ , her brain scolds, _most probably the descendant of Aphrodite_ ) looks back at her funnily.

And god.

She is so fucking beautiful.

Wendy could _feel_ her resolution breaking slowly, her many thoughts start tying themselves into a wacky knot, her brain doing a small _Macarena_ , her tongue twisting, and boy, oh boy, she’s going to fall down, isn’t she?

“I’m saying,” says the angel, or the descendant of Aphrodite ( _just say the girl, you dumb-dumb_ , a voice inside her head that sounds eerily like Seulgi chides). “I cannot find the instant noodles. Do you know where they are placed?”

“Oh, um, instant noodles, oh, yes. I...yes. I know.”

The girl raises an eyebrow, and Wendy wants to die.

“It’s…” she takes two steps to the left, one leg at a time like a freaking dysfunctioning human, and opens the top drawer. “...here. Instant noodles. Here. In the top drawer. Yeah.”

 _I’m so sorry_ , Wendy wants to scream, but she knows it’ll make the situation worse, so she keeps her mouth shut—still in the form of a smile so tight that it’s more like a grimace rather than what it’s intended—hoping that the girl would soon leave the Kang family’s kitchen and leave her alone to dwell on yet another failed, embarrassing encounter with yet another _pretty people_.

Which, by the way, won’t happen anytime soon. Because the girl is now taking a step closer to Wendy to reach for one of the instant noodles, boldly invading Wendy’s personal space _,_ and then another step, and then she walks past Wendy to get the pot, their shoulders brush slightly…

Wendy is dead. RIP.

“Do you want some, too?” the girl offers kindly.

But Wendy is not breathing, and she is pretty much a dead person right now.

“What flavor? Spicy?”

Her lungs _burn_ , and she is forced to take a deep breath to ease the pain. “Not...spicy…” she manages to choke out. And what? Did she just agree to eat together with the...angel? Descendant of Aphrodite? Possibly the most gorgeous human to ever exist? _No, she did not_.

Too late. The stranger already nods. “Ok, then. Not spicy.” She says.

Here is the context, if any of you still _don’t_ get the event currently rolling before our eyes:

It’s Saturday night. An hour ago, Wendy just got ushered out of her own dorm because _Nayoung is coming over,_ and so she packed her things in a backpack and made her way to Seulgi’s always welcoming house. Mother Kang opened the door for her, they conversed for about eleven minutes, and then Seulgi came out of her room with a severe bedhead. Mother Kang left to do some errands, and so Wendy went to Seulgi’s room. Ten minutes ago, she got thirsty, and she went down to get a water bottle, except she saw a package of instant cocoa beverages sitting on the counter. She texted Seulgi, asking if she could have some because _manners_ , and Seulgi replied _sure_ , so Wendy placed her phone down, retrieved a cup from the shelf, turned back, and met the eyes of an angel, descendant of Aphrodite, possibly the most gorgeous human to ever exist.

If that still doesn’t explain everything, then here, have some more information about our damsel in distress named Wendy:

She is gay.

She is hope-fucking-less around pretty people. She gets nervous and she gets flustered and she stumbles over her words and she says a lot of nonsense and she is just really, really awkward.

And yet here she is, standing frozen, absolutely unmoving, in the Kang family’s kitchen, clutching onto a cup of hot cocoa, in the presence of 1 (one) beautiful lady with long, warm chocolatey hair and eyes as clear as the...sky? (How does the saying go, anyway?)

 _Shit_. Absolute _shit_.

Screw you, Seulgi. Screw you for not giving a warning beforehand. Screw you for letting Wendy wander all around the house, completely unaware of the existence of the stranger (a beautiful one at that, too). Screw you for letting this weird, embarrassing encounter _happened_.

 _Oh my God, Wendy_ , _can you please calm down?_

Wendy takes a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds, lets it out. Yeah, that’s good. Inhale, exhale. Yes.

Three minutes pass. Wendy is still holding onto her cup as if her life depended on it, still doing the breathing exercises, still saying nothing.

“So, Seulgi’s friend, huh?” the stranger speaks up suddenly, although her eyesight is still focused on the boiling pot in front of her. Oh yeah, she is making _ramyeon_ both for herself and _Wendy_. Unbelievable. “I’m the cousin, by the way, did she tell you about me?”

 _Cousin… cousin_ … _um…._ oh, right, the _cousin_! Seulgi did say sometime ago that one of her distant relatives is visiting. So maybe Seulgi did _warn_ her, after all, she just left out some important detail like _how gorgeous the cousin is_. Or maybe you don’t describe your cousin like that. Hmm. Now she feels bad for cursing Seulgi earlier.

“ _Irene_?” Wendy guesses, and heaves a sigh when _Irene_ nods. “Your name...is pretty. Are you not from Korea?” _shut!_ Now that she’s not a nervous wreck ready to drop dead anytime soon she’s getting _too_ brave. Tsk-tsk.

Irene chuckles.

Wendy supposes that is the kind of sound you’d hear when you get to heaven.

Irene laughs harder, and that is when Wendy realises that she just said that aloud. She smiles sheepishly, mumbling _sorry_ , but Irene brushes her off.

“It’s my, uh, nickname, or penname. It just sorta stuck, and now I’m more comfortable going by it.” Irene explains after letting Wendy’s question hanging on the air for a moment. She fiddles with the ladle some more, using it to stir the pot’s content, and Wendy can’t help but watch, fascinated, because sure she gets nervous when she’s near pretty people but Irene is a lot _more_ than just a pretty person, and it shows.

(It is also possible that Wendy is just looking at things too _thoroughly_ , because let’s not kid ourselves, they just met. Wendy literally knows nothing about Irene and so she’s not exactly the right person to be asked about Irene.

Maybe we should get Seulgi.)

“You used to live abroad, then?”

“Huh?” Wendy looks up from her cup, her brain registering the question eleven seconds too late. “Oh, uh, yeah. I used to live in Canada. Yeah.” _Why does she say_ yeah _so many times?_

Irene hums, “Cool.” Then she glances at Wendy, piercing eyes and all, and Wendy not-so-subtly _freezes_. “What is that you’re holding?” asks Irene, and it takes Wendy embarrassingly long twelve seconds to realise that she’s asking about the hot cocoa.

“Hot cocoa. Though it’s not hot anymore.” Wendy replies, shaking her cup a bit. And then, because of _manners_ : “Want me to make you some, too?”

“Sure.”

Silence falls, then, both too busy doing their jobs. Wendy wants to say something, anything, to fill in the figuratively wide space between them. Maybe she should ask about the reason the other is staying at the Kang’s residence—though that doesn’t seem like a good idea, Wendy is never eloquent, she’d probably end up making the question sound offensive. Maybe she could ask about Irene more, like, what does she do, how old is she, those kind of basic questions, you know, just to remove the heavy silence currently blanketing them.

“How—” Wendy begins to say, the exact same time Seulgi chooses to show up, shouting, “ _Ramyeon_?”

Wendy sighs. Just when she gathered enough courage.

“Make your own food,” Irene says to Seulgi as she retrieves two bowls from the shelf, apparently done with the ramyeon. She puts down everything on the counter and motions Wendy to come closer. She does.

Seulgi whines, “You’re literally eating _my_ food, _unnie_ ,”

Irene glares (is it jokingly? Is it seriously? Wendy honestly can’t tell), but doesn’t say anything, so Wendy says, “We can share mine.”

“Huh? _Unnie_ made you ramyeon?” Seulgi asks in disbelief, which is pretty understandable, Wendy being stranger to Irene and all.

“Yes, and in exchange, she made me this,” Irene replies, bringing up her hot cocoa. “Anyway, don’t share your ramyeon with Seulgi. Go make your own, Seul,” she continues, her right hand still busy pouring noodles from the pot to the bowls. “I still have work to do, so I’m gonna eat in my room. Enjoy the food,” she says the last bit to Wendy, winking, and leaves.

It takes Wendy about a minute to gain her composure back because. Did. Irene. Just. Winked. At. Her?

“Amazing,” Seulgi mumbles as she shovels a spoonful of noodles into her mouth, having been settled on the counter. “Left you for a moment and you’re already flirting and being grossly domestic with my cousin.”

Wendy sputters.

*

It’s two hours later, when she is already buried deep under Seulgi’s thick duvets, the latter asleep on her side, that Wendy realises the fact that Irene _never_ asked for her name.

(Which can only mean one thing: Irene never _cares_ enough about her in the first place to actually want to know.

Right?

 _Why does it sting_?)

* 

At precisely 6 am, Wendy goes home. To Seulgi she reasons that she still has works due tomorrow to do, one that she can’t put off any longer, and she should thank the heaven because Seulgi doesn’t question further (most probably because the other doesn’t seem to be even awake at the moment). To herself she reasons that a morning walk would be good for her, which is not entirely a lie, because she does enjoy walking around, especially in the morning.

The _actual_ , truthful reason is that she doesn’t want to face Irene again.

Ok, she knows how that sounds.

But she doesn’t have a choice, ok? It’s either leaving or getting stuck into another awkward situation again, and frankly speaking, she is too exhausted to be having another embarrassing moment. Enough is enough.

It’s certainly not because she is too _afraid_ to see Irene and realising how hopeless Wendy is. No. Definitely, absolutely not.

Oh my God. Even thinking about this is embarrassing. Wendy is not a person who takes everything seriously, ok, she is not usually this _emo_ , she is not the type to get all pouty and bitter over people not wanting to have anything to do with her.

You know what? She’ll just stop thinking. Wendy reaches into his pocket and puts out her phone, rummages through her bag to find her earphone and plugs it on.

Here, better.

“You look like you’ve been through hell and back,” Sejeong comments the moment Wendy steps in inside their shared dorm. She is standing in the middle of the kitchen island, Nayoung sitting beside her, nodding.

Wendy groans. “Didn’t get much sleep,” she replies, making her way closer to grab a water bottle. “Why are you two already awake?”

Nayoung’s sheepish reply makes her regret even _thinking_ of asking.

“Never went to sleep,”

Wendy groans, louder and more desperate this time, while Sejeong cackles madly in the back. “One of these days one of you gonna kill yourself by doing excessive… _sexual_ activities. Or back problems. Whatever, I’m gonna sleep some more.” She turns, waving her hand as a goodbye.

“You need to get laid, too!” Sejeong shouts.

“No I’m not!” Wendy retaliates in her _‘this conversation is dismissed_ ’ tone. Sejeong and Nayoung just laughs some more.

Sighs.

*

A week goes by and Wendy is perfect. Peachy. Never been better. She’d even go as far as telling you that she has forgotten the goddess that is Seulgi’s cousin. It’s the thing about fireworks, she thinks, because while it’s astonishing and beautiful and spectacular at the moment—it doesn’t last for too long. As the moment passes, so is the euphoria.

Irene’s existence in Wendy’s small circular life, she supposes, is similar to that.

It probably has to do with the fact that she hasn’t had another encounter with Irene, but that’s the least of Wendy’s worries because it’s not like Irene attends the same college as her, which would entail _unexpected_ meeting and such, and because Wendy’s life basically only involves around campus. So long as she keeps her distance from Seulgi’s house, then everything is fine.

(Seulgi did question about the absence of her regular visitation, to which Wendy brushed off with a wave, a tight smile, and a lie about having to work on another important project.

Wendy has to beg for Sejeong to not _sexile_ her anymore, though, or else she’d be forced to sleep at the library.)

“No, Wendy _unnie_ , you don’t understand,” Yeri is saying, and she’s right, because Wendy is not even listening to her. “I need your pass so I could do some more _studying_.”

Wendy sighs, fixing her bag on her shoulders before pushing on the door to the coffee shop inside the campus. The bell atop her head rings as she makes her way inside, Yeri following suit. She stands before the counter, business being slow so no queue, and recites her order to the bartender.

“ _All_ of your study courses are held in the library, you don’t need to be inside the actual school buildings,” Wendy explains to her after, exasperated. Yeri is still in the pre-university course, meaning she should only have access to the library, and thus, her wanting to borrow Wendy’s pass to enter the Business faculty building to, as Yeri claims, _do some more studying_ is completely illogical and illegal. Wendy doesn’t do illogical, and she certainly doesn’t do _illegal_.

“Oh, I want a pumpkin cake,” Yeri says when the girl behind the counter is handing Wendy her coffee, completely ignoring Wendy’s reasoning.

“That’d be 15.000 won,” the girl says, and Wendy digs through her purse for cash because she knows damn well that Yeri won’t be the one paying for her food.

“Thank you.”

The girl nods, and Wendy turns, scanning the room for vacant seats so she could sit down and plant some logic inside Yeri’s head. And…. _oh_.

In retrospect, she should’ve seen this coming.

(Because Life is a sneaky little shit and Wendy is the kind of person that trusts too easily, gives all too quickly, and so she always falls into the trap that Life has _personally_ set for her. Like the calm before the storm.

Except the storm is not shaped as such, it is in the form of a beautiful human with chocolatey hair that looks so soft falling onto the owner’s shoulders.)

In reality, she freaks out.

It is also unfortunate that Yeri is already aiming for the table set next to the one the person’s occupying. Wendy is about to take two wide steps to snatch Yeri’s shoulder and drags her out of the cafe, _immediately_ , but before she could even take another breath the person looks up.

“Um, hi,” Wendy manages to greet, voice quivering.

 _Irene_ stares back at her with wide eyes, and then the line of her lips break into an easy smile ( _ouch_ ). “Oh! Fancy seeing you here,” she says, Wendy watches numbly as Irene starts moving her stuff to her side so the seat next to her would be empty. “Come sit down.”

Meanwhile Yeri, seemingly oblivious to the stiffening of Wendy’s body and the war happening inside her head, takes the seat in front of Irene and places down her bag. Now the only chairs left are the one besides Yeri and the other besides Irene—would it be considered rude if Wendy chose the one next to Yeri? Yes, right? Internally screaming, Wendy ends up sitting down beside Irene.

“You know Wendy _unnie_?” Yeri asks Irene, who hums and nod. “How do you know her?”

Wendy wonders why on the earth Yeri would ask that, but Irene already answers.

“Through a mutual friend. You know Kang Seulgi?”

Yeri nods. “Ah, Seulgi _unnie_.”

“How about you? Are you a student here, as well? You look a bit too young to be a university student,” asks Irene, gaze focused on Yeri. _She is attentive_ , Wendy thinks, _and attractive_. _That’s unfair_. “I’m Irene.”

“Oh, the name’s Yeri, I’m still taking a pre-university courses, so.” Yeri shrugs, then calmly eats her pumpkin cake. Wendy admires her confidence around new people, Yeri might be younger, but her making-friends quality is already at least three times better than that of Wendy’s. Then again, it is probably thanks to Yeri’s ability of not freaking out whenever _pretty people_ so much as talk to her. Hmm.

Irene says, “Seulgi said this is your favorite cafe inside campus. So I decided to try visit,”

Wendy promptly chokes—it is both fortunate and unfortunate that she was _actually_ in the middle of sipping her latte because at least she doesn’t choke on _nothing_ , but boy, does choking _hurt_. “Oh—” she tries to say after the coughing subsides a bit, but there really is nothing she can think of that won’t make her appear to be an annoyingly overconfident person (which, mind you, she _isn’t_ in the slightest bit), so she settles for a confused, “Why?”

“Aside from wanting to see you again, I wanted to try new things.” Irene replies, tone flat and calm, collected, as if she didn’t just say the most _controversial_ /flirtiest thing Wendy has ever heard. Wendy wants to cry.

She decides to focus on the latter reason, not the former, because her cheeks are already hot as hell and she doesn’t think she could take one (1) more “leading” remark. Not that she is 100% sure of Irene’s feelings, the girl is probably just messing with her mind. Or, maybe, Irene is just trying to make friends, and her intention weren’t all intended to get Wendy all flustered and interested _romantically_.

Now, that would be a _harsh_ reality.

“New things like what?” Wendy asks, trying to ignore the incessant curious glance Yeri is throwing her way.

Shrugging, Irene sips on her coffee. “Did Seulgi tell you about my job?”

“Huh? No, don’t think so.”

“Well, I write novels.” Says Irene. “That’s partly the reason why I came to Seoul. You know that your surroundings affect the way your brain works, right? The other reason is because I, uh, was running out of ideas, so I thought visiting new places will help me with that.”

In other words: _I was just playing with you, I didn’t really visit this place to see you again, I was just looking for foreign cafés that hopefully will help me get my creative juice back_.

Wendy tries not to show her bitterness.

“Writing is…uh, cool. Have you published any?” Wendy asks, glad that she sounds steady and not like in the middle of another emotional crisis. _Pretty people is so exhausting to be around_.

Irene smiles, and it’s so beautiful that Wendy would’ve fallen down had she been standing instead of sitting. “Three books,” she says as another smile graces her feature. She looks proud. Wendy _loves_ women who know what they’re doing and take pride in it. “You might want to check the nearest bookstore after this.”

“Of course.” Wendy nods, making a mental note to ask Seulgi later for the titles of Irene’s books. Or maybe she could just spend two hours inside the bookstore looking for them. Wendy’s got time.

Yeri chooses the moment to break in. With a gossip-y tone she tells Irene, “ _Unnie_ , the guy on your left keeps looking at you like, _dreamily_.” She leans closer. “He’s kinda cute. What do you think, Wendy _unnie_? Oh, wait, Wendy _unnie_ isn’t interested in guys like that—”

Wendy’s eyes automatically widen. _What the fuck—why is Yeri sharing that, what the hell_? Even so, she doesn’t say anything, unconsciously holds her breath instead, waiting for Irene’s response, half afraid that Irene would say something homophobic (of course Wendy didn’t really think that she is capable of being so, Irene looks like she’d support same-sex marriage or feminism or…whatever. Writers are usually more open-minded about these things, or so Wendy _hopes_ , because she doesn’t think she could face Irene again if Irene really turns out to be someone who supports anti-gay agenda).

Irene’s expression doesn’t change, still with the easy smile, still in her relaxed position. It doesn’t help that she is looking straight at _Wendy_ , without saying anything, before she finally moves her gaze to the guy in talk.

True to Yeri’s words, the guy is shamelessly looking at Irene _dreamily_ , even when Irene turns her smile into an icy glare (Wendy, who sits next to her, unfortunately, can’t see this), thus sending the poor guy scrambling to avert his gaze away.

Returning her attention back, Irene says, “No, thanks. _I am_ out of his league.” Then proceeds to take another sip of her coffee.

Wendy is _relieved_ , and God, she knows she shouldn’t be—but _she is_.

Later, when Wendy and Yeri have said their goodbyes to Irene—who chose to stay for another hour at the café—and are making their way to the dorm, Yeri abruptly says,

“Irene _unnie_ is gay, you know.”

Wendy doesn’t splutter, isn’t even surprised. “She just turned down that guy because maybe he wasn’t her type—that doesn’t mean she likes girls.” She says, _logical_.

“Noooo, you stupid,” Yeri says, and Wendy is about to protest at the downgrading remark but Yeri beats her. “Don’t you notice the way she kept checking you out? I mean, as if _aside from wanting to see you again_ isn’t clear enough? Irene _unnie_ is into you, _unnie_!”

At this point Wendy just heaves a sigh. She’s pretty used to these kind of remarks, Seulgi usually says them to her, and so she knows better than to get her hopes up. _Heartbreaks_ caused by wishful thinking are unnecessary and far more embarrassing.

“That doesn’t make me forgive you for outing me in front of a stranger without my consent,” Wendy replies instead. “Imagine if Irene _unnie_ took it differently, I wouldn’t be able to face her anymore, and she’s technically living in the Kang’s household!”

Yeri _tsks_. “You’re really, really _dense_ ,” she says, and then points at the library building. “I’m meeting Saeron few more minutes, see you later?”

“Yeah, see you later,”

Yeri waves and Wendy waves back, letting her arm falls beside her body once the girl is out of her sight. She still does not think that Irene is interested in her like _that_ , there really is no legitimate evidence nor explanation to back Yeri’s theory up. And maybe it’s better to keep it that way, because if her brain starts thinking that _that_ is true, then Wendy wouldn’t know anymore. She wouldn’t be able to keep her cool, and boy, would that be disastrous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for reading! Now can I get uhhh,,,,, feedbacks,,,
> 
> [Twitter!](http://twitter.com/perfextvelvet)


	2. catch me on fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I told myself to get this story finished first before I could move on to another story, so this morning I sat myself down and wrote the last 2k. Thanks so much for all the kudos and comments on the first chapter, hope this doesn't disappoint! <3

Fulfilling her promise, Wendy spends her entire evening in a bookstore, walking around in the hope of finding Irene’s books without having to search it up on the computer. At first she saunters over the new arrivals section, but all she finds are a pile of _fan fictions_ , which doesn’t seem like the thing Irene would write, so she walks over the best-selling shelf, scanning her eyes over it and—

 _There it is_! 

Wendy happily reaches for the book on the second row, and immediately freezes when she takes in the object of the cover. The book is called _In the Light of Your Kodachrome_ , by _Bae Irene_ , and the cover is of an older version of digital camera—cue the Kodachrome mentioned—except there, in the middle of the lens, Wendy sees silhouettes of feminine figures (dare she says it…two _women_ ), facing each other, their proximity close and friendly, almost touching…

And when Wendy reads the short summary at the back of the book, she chokes on a _sob_. 

_Jennie doesn’t ask for much: just for the skies to be blue forever, and to kiss Jisoo with only her lens as an audience._

_In piercing cold, bone-shivering winter, by the inexhaustibility of the city: people who wanted the proper rights to love without condition or restraint, people who stood by the vastness of the world and have never felt so caged._

_In which Jennie loves Jisoo, but everything is staged and society condemns._

With shaking hands, she retrieves her phone from her pocket and shoots Seulgi a text. 

_Irene is gay_.

Seulgi’s reply comes in just a few seconds. 

_Did she tell you that?_

_Well, not really. I found her book_

_Thought so._

_& in case you’re wondering: yes, she is into girls._

_I’m gonna cry_

_Are you even home right now?!_

_No, but I don’t think I can hold it in anymore_

_OMG_

_Don’t do that son seungwan you’ll embarrass yourself_

_Go home first_

_Seulgi you don’t understand_

_???_

_I like girls, Irene turns out to like girls, too_

_As if that’s not enough_

_She’s like, insanely beautiful_

_Ethereally gorgeous_

_Sharp gaze sharp feature but soft smile_

_The whole world knows this and she does too_

_She shines brighter than a goddamn star_

_She flirted with me once or so I think_

_And Yeri thought she is attracted to me but I don’t think so_

_Bc I suck at differentiating platonic and romantic feelings_

_But she’s a freaking descendant of Aphrodite_

_nd am a mere mortal_

_OMG_

_Text me ur location_

_& stay where u are_

_Wendy you’re having a freaking mental breakdown_

_I’m picking u up_

*

It doesn’t get better after that. If all, it only gets _worse_.

After the downing realization that Irene is, indeed, _gay_ , Wendy starts to see her _everywhere_. It’s like the universe is plotting Wendy’s premature death or something, seeing how close she’s to dropping dead whenever Irene is in her vicinity, and a week ago Wendy would’ve laughed if you told her that she’d be seeing Irene again, but now-Wendy can only laugh self-deprecatingly because of course, of course, Irene’s in-progress novel is taking place in a university so the older spends almost every day in the café that Wendy frequents, claiming that getting into the _mood_ her story is based off is good for her creative juice, which leads to encounter after encounter after encounter.

It also doesn’t help that Wendy has an elephant-sized crush on the other. 

It most certainly doesn’t help that Irene is so touchy-feely with her—brushing Wendy’s bangs off her forehead (she does it _four times_ , all of which Wendy spent freezing), fixing her lipstick that got smeared (it was one time, but Wendy could still feel the warmth radiating from Irene’s finger as she touched the corner of Wendy’s lips), putting her arms over Wendy’s shoulder (for so many times that Wendy lost count), leaning so close that Wendy got a whiff of her perfume, a smell that is so inexplicably amazing she doesn’t know how to describe it, et cetera, et cetera….

This is not good. 

This is so far from being good. 

“Oh my God, you’re so thirsting after her,” Seulgi says. 

Then again, it totally wasn’t a good idea to let her mind wander off in the middle of conversation with Seulgi, especially when they were talking about Irene’s prolonged stay in Seoul just a minute ago.

Wendy still tries, though. “I’m not thirsting after anyone.” She lies.

“Yes, you are, I can basically read your face, Wendy,” says Seulgi, a hint of laughter gracing her expression. “I don’t know why you keep insisting on _not_ asking _unnie_ out. I really don’t think she’d refuse,”

Honestly? Wendy _thinks_ so. Irene is nice, and they have been hanging out with each other every afternoon for more than two weeks, so the possibility that the other will turn her down is a bit…too small. Almost zero. Almost nil. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Irene would accept her offer to go out together, but she also would be oblivious to the hidden-but-not-so-hidden motive behind it (which is, of course, to get her to _fall_ for Wendy, thus will lead them to grander, romantic involvement with one another), Irene probably will go along with Wendy, thinking that what they have is just a mere _friendship_. 

Bigger problem: Wendy doesn’t think she could take it very well if Irene is _really_ thinking of her as friend.

“I don’t know,” she settles on answering, because her _actual_ opinion on the matter is way too complicated to be shared with someone else. “I don’t think it’s really serious. Maybe I’m just infatuated. After all, we barely know each other, my feelings might be temporary.”

Seulgi shakes her head, “You? _Only_ infatuated? That’s like saying your cookies taste bad.”

“What… are you even implying,” Wendy rolls her eyes.

“No, but seriously, Wendy, we both know you don’t do _temporary_ , you always go _all in_ , no half-hearted, no half-assed—maybe you should give it a try first.”

 _That’s what I thought, too_. Wendy wants to say, instead closes her eyes and mumbles lowly, “Irene _unnie_ is just way too… _perfect_ , don’t you think? She should be with someone as god-like as she is, I dunno. It’s just, she said it herself, right— _she_ is out of _my_ league.”

This time it’s Seulgi who rolls her eyes. “ _God-like_ …what kinda bullshit. Plus, it’s not like she said it about you—she said _she_ is out of _that guy_ ’s league, not yours.”

“Well, same difference.”

Sighing, Seulgi just folds her lips together and stops herself from commenting further.

*

“Okay, so, sophomores got to choose their own roommates and the hall they wanted their dorm to be, but freshmen don’t? That’s kinda unfair,”

Wendy thinks about it for a moment. “I mean, yeah, it is. But there’s an upside to this setting—freshmen tend to be a bit... _spoiled_ , since this is their first year in college and who knows, maybe it’s their first time being apart from their family, so _difficult_ dormitory life might get them ready better…y’know…make them get used to the fact that adult life is not in a slightest bit _easy_.” She explains, or tries to, anyway. 

“That makes sense,” Irene says, already jotting down on her notes, half of her face hidden behind the huge, purple-covered book. “What about the dormitory’s cafeteria? Another _unfair_ arrangement?”

Today, for a change, they’re sitting on the bench just outside of the library, facing the mini garden and the campus’ sport field. It’s probably somewhere around 3 pm, Wendy having been done with her classes for the day and Irene being eager for more information regarding the students’ living arrangement in the university—hence the text she sent Wendy asking to meet up. 

(Irene graduated from college a few years back, but she said her house was close to the campus so she didn’t really get to experience the living-in-dormitory thing and its regulations.)

“Oh, no, I don’t think so.” Wendy answers, biting her upper lip. 

Irene nods.

This, sitting beside each other, talking about trivial stuff regarding the setting of Irene’s in-progress book, meeting up purposefully, has become a regular occurrence in Wendy’s life. They exchanged numbers, sometimes they get food together, be it in the café that had played an important part in their budding relationship, or somewhere out of campus. Sometimes Wendy texts Irene, throwing pleasantries or asking if the latter needed help, a whole lot of basic conversation starters that didn’t really do well to fulfill its purpose. Sometime Irene texts first, mostly quizzing Wendy about the rooming setting and/or anything as unimportant. 

A lot of times Wendy just opens Irene’s chat and stares at it for a full twenty-minutes—wanting to shoot a text or drop a call or whatever that will ignite a full-on conversation about _them_ , but never quite has the balls to do so. 

Silence takes place between them—empty and a little uncomfortable, but Wendy doesn’t feel like opening her mouth to talk incessantly about things she doesn’t really want to talk about. She’s had enough of those times where Irene was silent and she would full blabber on about superfluous bullshit simply because she has this decency to keep the conversation going instead of letting it fall into awkwardness. 

Wendy doesn’t even know if Irene likes to listen to her. For all she knows, Irene could be turning her ears deaf whenever Wendy starts babbling. 

That thought is _unsettling_. 

“Okay, that’s enough information for the day,” Irene’s voice jerks Wendy back to reality. Wendy watches as Irene closes her book, putting it inside her bag, and then proceeds to get up and stretch. Irene puts her hair in high ponytail today; Wendy doesn’t know why that got her so distracted. 

_Her ears_ , her brain provides, totally unneeded. _She has such cute ears_.

 _Shut up_! Wendy mentally scolds herself. 

“Want to get some snack?” 

“Uh…uh…” Wendy dumbly murmurs, “I can’t, I, uh, have to study some material for quiz tomorrow. Sorry.”

Irene frowns. “You have a quiz tomorrow yet you didn’t tell me earlier? We’ve spent about two hours here, Wendy!” 

“It’s no problem, really!” Wendy waves her hand across her face. “I could do some refreshing after class before jumping back to another study session,”

“But still,” Irene says with a pout. ( _Wendy? Hello, Wendy? You alive there?_ ) “You could’ve used the time explaining stuff to me to study. I’m sorry.” 

“No, _unnie_ , it’s alright, I swear! It’s not like I can’t study after this. Plus, I like spending time with you.” Says Wendy in hurry, until her brain registers what she just said. She possibly freezes—yep, even after spending so many hours talking to Irene or just being with her Wendy still can’t let go her inability to act calm and collected and not in the slightest bit bothered. Very good. “I mean…”

Irene already asks, “You like spending time with me?” 

“Of course, you are, uh, fun.”

“ _Fun_.” Irene repeats, and then adds. “There are two types of people when it comes to studying. The first one is people who study better with background noises and don’t get distracted easily. The second is people who require absolute silence and can’t focus when there are people around them. Which one are you? The former or the latter?”

Wendy doesn’t really get where this is going, but still squeaks out a reply. “The former? Absolute silence makes me sleepy,”

“Hmm,” Irene hums. “You’re heading to the library, right?”

“Eh, yes.”

“Then I’m heading there, too.” Irene says, zipping up her bag and throws it across her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“What, why?” 

Clicking her tongue—as if her following Wendy to study is a normal thing she does every day—Irene starts walking towards the general direction of the library, Wendy having no choice but to trail behind. 

Upon arriving, without asking Wendy beforehand, Irene leads them both to the farthest corner where two long wooden tables with matching chairs are placed conveniently. Midterms are still months away so the library isn’t entirely packed, allowing them enough freedom to choose wherever to sit. 

“This okay?” Irene asks, putting down her bag on the table and choosing the chair opposite where Wendy is standing. 

A bit nervously, Wendy replies, “Yes.” The she sits and puts down her stuff as well, deciding to just do what she’s supposed to instead of dwelling further into the enigma that is Bae Irene. She pulls out all of her textbooks and her pencil case. “I’m going to study now—you can just leave if you’re bored, I, uh, won’t mind.”

“Alright.” 

Satisfied, Wendy reciprocates Irene’s sweet smile with hers that she hopes is just as sweet, or at least two-thirds as sweet—whatever. She looks down on the matter at hand and starts reading.

The thing about Wendy is, when she puts her mind into things, she finds it not hard at all to get immersed into it. Like drowning. Which is why, ten minutes in, she starts to forget Irene’s existence around her, starts doing her habits that she wouldn’t ever try consciously—like chewing on her lips and/or her pen, humming _aaah_ when she actually gets the topic, sighing deeply and clicking her tongue whenever she doesn’t get the subject and have to go back, et cetera—thus, leading her to not noticing the _fond_ look Irene’s throwing her way.

Well.

Anyway.

It takes her approximately an hour to finally look up from her scattered textbooks, having deemed it enough studying for the day, and realize that: (a) Irene is nowhere to be seen, and (b) there’s a cup of coffee sitting before her, condensation dripping from its body, indicating that long time has passed since it’s been bought, and finally, (c) there’s a sticky note plastered across it, a bit wet, but still readable enough.

_Have urgent writing ideas—have to leave. Sorry 4 not telling you, you look busy. Study hard, Seungwan!_

The love sign… what does it even mean? Not that Wendy will start overanalyzing it, it’s just… it makes her… _hopeful_. Maybe a little delusional, too, since all she can think of right now is how _nice_ Irene is, and how nice her smile is, and how Wendy would like it if Irene were to have the exact same fascination directed towards her.

That’d be heaven.

The coffee tastes a hundred sweeter and more delicious as she takes a sip.

*

“You’ve fallen,” Seulgi whispers.

“Fallen for what, exactly?” Wendy replies, although she has a vague idea what Seulgi might be talking about. It’s not really difficult to guess, anyway.

They are sitting in the middle of Korean BBQ restaurant—Seulgi, Sooyoung, Yeri, Irene, and her. It was a weird arrangement, the five of them, since they all have different interests, different majors and all that. But then again, having _mutual friends_ is pretty much an effective way to get closer to someone (Bae Irene is the most recent example of this theory—for Wendy, at least).

“You have like, this face,” Seulgi continues, undeterred. “That says: ‘hey, look at me! I’m absolutely in love! And I’m going to be absolutely obvious about it!’” 

Wendy elbows her. “I am not in love with her!” she hisses, carefully controlling the volume in case Irene has super hearing or something. No way in hell she’s going to embarrass herself further.

Seulgi doesn’t even have the decency to look pained. Maybe Wendy should’ve socked her harder. “Yeah, but you could, is what I’m saying,” she points out. 

Seulgi’s not wrong, and Seulgi knows that too, and Wendy hates that. “It doesn’t matter,” she says, at the end, because what else should she say to that? Seulgi already knows she’s lying, no point in denying further. “I mean, have you looked at her? She’s like, this perfect—”

“If you say ‘Aphrodite descendant’ one more time I’m gonna smack you,” Seulgi cuts in, frowning. 

Wendy can’t help but giggles at that. She, maybe, has had this exact conversation with Seulgi one too many times. Not gonna feel bad about it, though, it’s partially Seulgi’s own fault for being friends with Wendy. 

“No, but really,” Seulgi starts again, serious and solemn sounding. “I know you, and I know Irene _unnie_ , okay? And please don’t start being self-deprecating on me now because that is not okay, ‘kay?” 

“Is this your way of giving me a pep-talk?” Wendy asks, laughing. 

Before Seulgi can reply, Sooyoung already intervenes. “What are you two giggling about?” 

“Nothing,” they reply in unison. 

It goes pretty well, all in all—I mean, Yeri did spill something on the table and Sooyoung, being Sooyoung, flirted with their waitress like she does it for a living, but yeah, they connect better than Wendy had thought they’d be. Plus, from this gathering Wendy got to see a brand new side of Irene when she interacted with Yeri, this easiness, the way Irene threw her head back as she laughed, making these funny sounds that everyone can’t help but laugh at, and wow. Wow. Wendy adores her so much it’s not funny—not that it’s ever been funny in the first place, but like, this time it’s. Serious. Triple real. 

Wendy is gonna be head over heels in love with her by the end of the week, isn’t she? (The voice in her head that sounds creepily like Seulgi’s unhelpfully supplies: _Yes, absolutely_.)

They part in the end, Sooyoung to a group discussion, Seulgi to one of her dance classes (she has so many that Wendy stops trying to memorize them), Yeri to another “study date” with Saeron, which left Wendy, whose plan tonight only involves sitting in her dorm room alone and maybe pulling up Netflix if she gets bored (Sejeong’s having a sleep-over at Nayoung’s), and Irene, who doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave either. 

“Oh, that’s great! Irene, you don’t have anything to do either, do you?” Seulgi says, faux cheery and obvious about it, too. Wendy kind of wants to slap a hand to her forehead, but doesn’t, of course, because that’d invite attention and that’s the least thing Wendy wants in her life right now.

Yeri, as if smelling a drop of blood a mile away, immediately joins in with a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, _unnie_! You two should hang, maybe Wendy will stop being such a loser together,” which. Spending a night in relaxing alone with a movie playing in the background is _not_ being a loser, okay? It’s called _self-care_ , Yeri, look it up! Except Wendy didn’t say any of this, grimacing instead, though it turns into a helpless smile quickly after she catches the amused look Irene’s sending her.

So that’s what happen. The dormitory is only fifteen minutes away, so they didn’t bother catching a cab, choosing to walk instead. It surprisingly isn’t...weird, like Wendy had expected—well, it _is_ a little weird, in that Wendy can’t stop talking about some unimportant bullshit and Irene nodding and making humming sounds in reply, but it’s not like, exceptionally weird. In fact, it’s pretty fine, if Wendy do say so herself.

“Well, here is me,” Wendy says lamely, opening the door to her room. It’s clean, thank god Wendy had the mind to fold her laundry and organize her books before she left earlier. “My bed’s on the left, you can sit if you want. Or lay down. Uh. Yes. Anywhere you want.”

Shit. Why does she keep getting tongue-tied when talking to Irene? She’s a grown woman, for fuck’s sake. This awkwardly-chattering-away is getting ridiculous.

Irene sits on the bed.

“You want a drink? I have, uh, bottles of water here. And snacks. Sejeong—uh, my roommate—she always makes sure we still have a stack of junk food, so we have a lot here. So like, don’t worry about—”

“Wendy,” Irene cuts in, “sit down.”

“Right. Yes, Ma’am.” Wendy automatically replies and winces right after. God she really is the absolute worst. She sits at the edge of her bed, reaching for her laptop on the desk and sits it on her lap. “Um. Any movie preference? Or would you rather watch tv show?”

“Either’s fine,” Irene says, smiling this little lopsided smile that causes Wendy’s brain to short-circuits. “I can lay down, yeah?”

Wendy nods, frantic, and looks away from Irene before her eyes can track the movement. She refuses to be a weirdo about it. Nope. She waits for the Netflix page to load, biting her lower lip. At the end, she pulls a mockumentary and settles next to Irene—lying down, yes, oh god she’s freaking nervous—putting the laptop on the tiny space between them. Wendy’s bed’s a twin, probably not meant for two people to sleep on it at the same time, but neither of them is particulary huge so they make do and it’s—a tight fit, their shoulders touching, Irene’s long hair in Wendy’s nose, Wendy’s hair probably in Irene’s nose as well. Again, it probably should be weird, but it isn’t.

It’s silent for the better part of the first half hour, but then Irene turns her body towards Wendy and Wendy quite literally freezes, unable to unplug her gaze from the computer because else it’s gonna be met by Irene’s clear brown eyes and Wendy still wants to live, please—

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong, Wendy,” Irene says, quiet, almost inaudible, but of course Wendy’s ears caught it.

Wendy doesn’t have a choice but to look at Irene then. “Huh?”

“It’s not just me, right?” Irene says again, and it doesn’t make sense because what? What does that mean? Wendy can’t concentrate at all. “I mean, this, the cafe dates, and library visit—they mean something, right?”

Shit.

Is Irene really saying what Wendy thinks she’s saying? Wendy hopes yes, because else this is going to be—the worst heartbreak ever, possibly.

“They mean something,” Wendy finally croaks out. “It’s—yeah, they mean something. At least, uh, to me.”

Irene laughs, a soft little thing. Wendy’s chest yearns to hear it again and again. “They do too, to me,” she says. She reaches forward and softly brushes strands of hair from Wendy’s forehead. “You do know I write lesbian novels for a living, right?”

Wendy grins, can’t help it. “I do.” She nods, now finally brave enough to meet Irene’s eyes. “They’re lovely,”

Irene doesn’t cease with the brushing, keeps her fingers lightly against the crown of Wendy’s head. It’s intimate, it’s wonderful, and it’s everything Wendy’s ever wanted. “I have a rule when writing,” she says, like a preamble to something important, so Wendy stops freaking out for a moment and listens. Irene shakes her head. “Never write a real person, never write a character based on a real person. I’ve been writing for seven years, have never broken that rules, but.”

She moves closer, slowly, as if Wendy’s an easily frightened animal, and says, just as quietly, “I wrote a book about you.”

Wendy closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “Really?” she asks.

“The fastest book I’ve ever written,” Irene tells her. “I mean, it’s not perfect, and I’m probably gonna get yelled by my editors a lot for overusing the words ‘kind’, and ‘beautiful’, and ‘ethereal’, and... and more, I guess. But I like it, and if it’s not obvious, I like you, too, Wendy, since that night you almost poured hot cocoa all over yourself.”

A tiny laugh escapes from Wendy’s throat. It sounds choked. “I—I think I like you, too,” she starts, the words coming out of her mouth like she no longer has control over them. “I mean. I, uh, pretty sure I like you too. I think you’re beautiful, and nice, and really, really kind, and you have adorable smile and when you laugh it’s like—it’s like my ears immediately zeroed in on the sound and. Did I say beautiful? Because you are, uh, yes.”

Nice speech, Wendy! Now shut the hell up, she scolds herself.

Thank god Irene laughs at that, instead of finding it offensive or creepy or something—and again, it’s a nice sound. And Wendy would love to hear more of it. In a moment of bravery, Wendy says, loudly, “Okay, so that’s—does that mean we can, you know, kiss now? Because I’d really like that, honestly, and that’d be perfect—”

Irene laughs again, cuts Wendy’s sentence with a kiss that doesn’t stay chaste for very long.

*

Irene wasn’t lying. The book she made about Wendy can be found in any bookstore in South Korea a year later, a meet-cute story with complex plots and tearjerker moments complete with a fairytale-like ending, because Irene says it’s the only proper way to end it, even though she also admits writing that kind of ending wasn’t her style at all. Still. Wendy loves everything about it.

It almost seems like a love song, reading it. Wendy supposes it is, in a way, for her, from Irene. It’s horribly sweet, and Seulgi doesn’t stop making fun of her even after months of the initial release. Wendy doesn’t mind. Wendy would never mind.

Irene names the book _Today is Wendy_. Wendy loves it so much she’d sleep with it if Irene didn’t grumble about it so much—they moved in together last month—so Wendy hugs her instead, and kisses her, because that’s allowed. Irene doesn’t complain.

And, well, they live happily ever after, Wendy guesses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is absolutely wild that I first wrote this when the romance between Yeri and Saeron was at its peak. I miss them :<
> 
> Again, kudos and comments would totally appreciated. Thanks a lot <3
> 
> [Twitter!](http://twitter.com/perfextvelvet)


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